


Comin' Out The Cage And I'm Doin' Just Fine

by xRabbitx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Bromance to Romance, I suck at tagging, Jealousy, M/M, Prison AU, eventually explicit, i'll just make em up as I go, mentions of abuse, uuuhhmmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-06 07:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10329593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRabbitx/pseuds/xRabbitx
Summary: Our two favorite junkers have finally managed to get caught, and they're about to do their first stint in prison. Instead of busting out, they (read: Junkrat) decide that it might be nice to enjoy a couple of months of three meals a day and a bed to sleep in every night. It doesn't take long before Junkrat has plans for them, though, and Roadhog really, really isn't a fan...





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagicVickri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicVickri/gifts), [brundlebambi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brundlebambi/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two favorite junkers have finally managed to get caught, and they're about to do their first stint in prison. Instead of busting out, they (read: Junkrat) decide that it might be nice to enjoy a couple of months of three meals a day and a bed to sleep in every night. It doesn't take long before Junkrat has plans for them, though, and Roadhog really, really isn't a fan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thanks to MagicVickri for the title! I would've probably called it something super lame if it hadn't been for you ^^
> 
> Secondly, I dedicate this to MagicVikri (for the title) and BrundleBambi (whom I think was the person to suggest the prison AU to me??). 
> 
> And thirdly, hey this is the prison AU I talked about a thousand years ago! :') Well, this is it! Or some of it.  
> I don't really have any idea how often I will update it, but hopefully I'll update pretty regularly. It really depends on how my mojo is doing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

*

 

Junkrat looks good in orange, but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s a different matter with Mako, however, and then there’s the fact that none of the jumpsuits really fit him. He’s pretty sure the guards would have made fun of him as he tried to get into the suit if they hadn’t been scared that he would literally snap them in half if they even as much as snickered. They were right to think so. In fact, the only thing that’s keeping Mako from busting him and Junkrat out of here is that they have both missed having a roof over their heads and three meals a day. And then there’s the fact that while Mako might be able to bust out unscathed, Junkrat isn’t nearly as durable as Mako, and he might lose a couple more limbs in the attempt. So Mako resigns to his fate—for now—and just takes a couple of deep breaths when they take away his mask.

 

 *

 

            “Well, will ya look at that!” Junkrat swoons when they’re shown to their cell. He hops inside (they have taken away his prosthetics until they can give him some substitutes that can’t kill people) and sits down on one of the beds to feel the mattress. “Soft as a feather!”

            Mako grunts and is about to take a step inside when the guard pokes him in the side with his staff.

            “Not you, big guy,” the guard says, clearly trying to act tougher than he feels, because there’s sweat trickling down his forehead. “You’re down here.”

            “Wait, we’re not in the same cell?” Junkrat asks, his smile faltering slightly.

            The guard just shakes his head and slams the bars to the cell shut. Mako just has time to watch as Junkrat turns slightly white before the guard leads him further down the row of cells. Mako can hear Junkrat hiss and curse as they walk away. He’s not overly pleased at the idea of not sharing a cell with Junkrat; after all, they have shared pretty much everything for so many years that Mako has lost count. They’ve slept next to each other—or at least in the same room—for so long that Mako isn’t actually sure he can fall asleep without listening to Junkrat’s soft snoring.

            “Is there any way to get transferred to another cell?” Mako asks as the guard unlocks his cell and gestures for him to go inside.

            “Nope,” the guard says and fails at hiding his smugness. “Not unless you and your roommate get into trouble, but I doubt anyone would get into trouble with you. So you’re just going to have to learn how to live without your little boyfriend.”

            “Not my boyfriend,” Mako growls, and the guard hurries to take a step back and lock the cell. Mako’s hands twitch with the urge to reach through the bars and simply strangle the guard right then and there, but that probably wouldn’t help the situation much, so he just huffs and turns around to inspect his cell. It’s tiny (like everything is compared to him), and the only things inside are two beds and a toilet. Mako pinches the bridge of his nose and tries really hard not to lose his cool. He succeeds, but it doesn’t help that the wall over the bed that belongs to his cellmate is covered in cutouts of naked women with large silicone breasts. The paper is yellowed and aged, and judging from the look and makeup of the women, these cutouts are at least twenty years old. Mako feels at least five years older just looking at them, and he covers his face in his hands as he sits down on his bed. The springs squeal and complain under his weight, but they amazingly hold up. He feels a bit safer here behind his hands, but he already misses his mask and the shield it provides him. It’s easier to face the world behind it.

            Mako spends the rest of the afternoon trying to make his cell feel a bit nicer; they didn’t let him keep most of his belongings, because most of them could kill at least three people in one go, but they did let him keep his books. It doesn’t look like his cellmate is an avid reader, because the shitty little bookshelf in the cell is empty and covered in dust. Mako dusts it with his cellmate’s pillowcase before placing his books (“A Farewell to Arms”, “Animal Farm”, and “The Importance of Being Earnest”) on it. Alphabetically by author, of course. He’s running his massive finger over the cracked spines of the books when the cell door slides open and a man, who presumably is his cellmate, steps inside. Mako doesn’t look up until the door has been slid closed again. He honestly hadn’t known what to expect, but whatever it was, this definitely wasn’t it. The man is tiny—not just compared to Mako, but in general—and old, very old. His arms, neck, and probably the rest of his body, too, are covered in tattoos that are so old that they have blurred. Most of them are so blurred that it’s hard to make out what they are supposed to look like, but Mako is pretty sure that he can make out a ship here and a naked mermaid there. The man has long, thin, white hair that’s tied into a loose ponytail at the back of his neck, and there’s a large chunk missing of his right ear as if something or someone has taken a large bite out of it. His eyes are brown, and his skin is wrinkled the way skin wrinkles when it’s spent many years out in the sun. Even though they haven’t exchanged a single word yet, Mako is pretty sure he already likes the guy.

            “Woah,” the old man says in a rather delayed reaction to seeing Mako sitting there. “If you ain’t the biggest fucker I’ve ever seen, I’ll eat me own leg.” Mako doesn’t know much about English accents, but he’s pretty sure this one is Irish.

            Mako just looks at the man, not really sure how to react to this statement. People usually comment on his size with fear or malice, but the guy sounds more amused than anything else.

            “Not much of a talker, eh?” the man says and holds out a hand that’s just as wrinkled and tattooed as the rest of him. It looks like it once used to be thick and muscular. Mako looks at it, then up at the man’s face, then back at his hand. Then he takes it.

            “That’s a good lad,” the man says with a smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Name’s Murph.”

            “Mako,” Mako says, instantly wondering if he should even be giving out his real name here. Then again, it’s not like his real name is a secret—not after being broadcast all over the world in that A Moment in Crime special.

            “Mako, eh?” Murph says, shaking Mako’s hand with a surprisingly forceful grip. “Sounds exotic.”

            Mako just grunts in reply. Murph seems like a nice enough guy, but Mako can’t help but wonder if Junkrat has been just as lucky with his cellmate. Knowing Junkrat’s luck, he probably hasn’t, and Mako wouldn’t be surprised if Junkrat is in the middle of talking himself into a beating already. That thought makes Mako feel frustrated and exhausted, and it must have shown on his face, because Murph sits down on his own bed and asks, “Somethin’ botherin’ ye, big fella?”

            “Partner’s down the hall,” Mako grunts, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “He has a knack for getting into trouble. Just wondering if he’s going to still have his teeth by morning.”

            “Hm,” Murph scratches the white scruff on his chin. “What cell is he in?”

            “57.”

            “Ah.”

            “What?”

            “Well, uh,” Murph says with an apologetic (and pretty toothless) grin, “there’s a reason that cell was missin’ an occupant. The buck who takes up the other bed is quite famous ‘round here. Right hand man of a gang leader. Bit of a chancer.”

            Mako isn’t sure what a ‘chancer’ is, but it doesn’t sound good, and it only makes his frustration grow. He tells himself that it’s simply because he can’t do the job Junkrat hired him to do—to protect Junkrat—and although he doesn’t manage to entirely convince himself, that’s the story he’s sticking to. It doesn’t even matter, because there’s nothing he can do about it right now, so he tries to distract himself by asking how Murph ended up in the slammer. Mako doesn’t really expect Murph to want to share that story, but as it turns out, Murph is more than happy to share; he has been in here for almost 30 years by now, and he was originally throw in here for smuggling tobacco and liquor, but his sentence has been prolonged several times now, because Murph keeps getting into fights. Murph swears that it’s not his fault, that he never starts the fights, but seeing as he’s the main provider of goods in here, many of the gangs are trying to take over his business.

            “Been after me blood a couple of times by now,” Murph grins. “Even got it at one point.” He pushes up his sleeve to show a long, white scar stretching from his elbow all the way up to his shoulder. “But they haven’t taken me business from me yet. Folks like me better than ‘em, and they’d rather do business with a fella who ain’t gonna try and shank ‘em the next day.”

            “Hm, understandable,” Mako hums, a little surprised that he’s actually enjoying himself. It’s been a while since he last a conversation with another adult—not that Junkrat isn’t an adult, but it is kind of a crime to expect him to act like one, too. Mako can’t help but snort a little to himself.

            “And what is you in for?” Murph wants to know.

            “Bit of everything,” Mako says with a half shrug. “Extortion, kidnapping, robbery, armed robbery, assault…”

            “Woah,” Murph says with an impressed nod. “That’s quite a bit.”

            “That’s just the stuff they know. We’ve been going for years. This is the first time they’ve caught us.”

            “You and your partner?”

            “Yeah. Well—guess he’s technically my boss.”

            “Boss, eh? How did that happen? A big fella like you don’t seem to need a boss.”

            Mako opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes that maybe he shouldn’t just be blurting out details about his and Junkrat’s history. In fact, he’s probably already told Murph too much, especially considering that he hardly even knows the guy. Who says Murph isn’t some mole planted there by the police to get him to spill the beans on even more of their crimes? Mako considers Murph for a moment, and his suspicions must have been showing on his face (fuck, Mako misses his mask right now!), because Murph lifts his old hands and grins apologetically, “Alright, I get it. I’ll be backin’ off now. Too nosey for me own good.”

            The mood in the cell is awkward after that, and Mako is just about to pull one of his books down from the shelf with a loud buzzing alarm blares out of the loudspeakers, and the barred door slides open.

            “Ah, dinner time!” Murph is off his bed in a second, and Mako help but marvel at how springy the old guy is. He gets off his own bed and follows Murph out of the cell to join the long line to inmates trudging down the hall, heading for the mess. Mako tries to spot Junkrat, but even though Mako is at least a head taller than most of the men in the line, Junkrat is probably slouching as usual, so he’s blocked from view. Or maybe he’s lying on the cold concrete floor of his cell, beaten to a bloody pulp. Mako swallows and cranes his neck as they pass Junkrat’s cell to see if he can spot any bloody pulps. The cell is empty, and Mako breathes a soft sigh of relief.

            It only takes a few minutes after they reach the mess hall and the line breaks up before Mako hears a familiar, “Hoggy!” Mako turns and forces himself not to smile (Junkrat doesn’t need to know how glad Mako is to see him. It would only give him the wrong idea) as he sees the blonde, balding head bobbing through the crowd. Mako’s non-smile melts away, though, as Junkrat hops closer to him and Mako spots the bruise on his cheek.

            “What happened here?” Mako pokes at the bruise, and Junkrat winces and pulls back a little.

            “Ah, s’nothing,” Junkrat says with a dismissive gesture as if he’s trying to physically wave Mako’s concern away. “Just a little tussle between men. Perfectly innocent, mate.”

            “Oh yeah?” Mako narrows his eyes at Junkrat who seem to visibly shrink under his gaze. “Who d’you tussle with then?”

            “Me cellmate.”

            “I can guess. Point him out to me.”

            “C’mon, Hoggy, don’t go spoil the fun. I’m workin’ on getting us some connections with the big blokes in ‘ere, alright? If we play our cards right, we’ll have a fair go at living like kings.”

            “And this work involves you getting your ass kicked?”

            “Never mind that! Just follow me lead, Hogs, and everythin’s gonna be right.”

            Mako groans, then sighs and nods. Fine, he’ll follow Junkrat’s plan, and when it goes south, Junkrat will come crawling (hopping) back and begging him to save him, just like he always does, and Mako will make a big fuss about it, but he will eventually save Junkrat’s ass, just like he always does.

            Junkrat keeps talking as they get in line for food, leaning on Mako for support. He tells Mako about all the gangs and alliances in the prison (apparently he did manage to get some info out of his cellmate before or after the beating took place), and who they would benefit the most from befriending. It seems like there used to be two rivaling gangs in the prison, but a recent showdown crushed one group and allowed the other to completely take over. Just as Murph had told Mako, Junkrat tells Mako that he’s sharing a cell with the right hand man of the leader of that gang.

            “So, this gang,” Mako asks, watching the disgusting sludge that’s being ladled onto his tray, “does it have a name?”

            “Eh, I reckon it does,” Junkrat replies with a shrug. “Somethin’ ‘bout skulls? Or maybe skunks. Didn’t really catch it.”

            “You didn’t catch—hey, where're you going?” Mako asks when he goes to sit down and Junkrat doesn’t follow him. Junkrat is instead heading off in another direction.

            “I should go sit with me cellmate,” Junkrat tells him. “Tryin’ to make friends, right?”

            “Didn’t he just beat you up?”

            Junkrat just grins and disappears into the crowd. Mako tries to follow him with his gaze, but he’s still surprisingly fast on one leg and the crowd is too big. He spots Junkrat a few minutes later, though, when most of the inmates have sat down. Junkrat is sitting at the edge of a table in the far corner of the room. He looks fidgety and a bit nervous as the men at the table talk and seemingly ignore him. Most of them are older with various sizes of beards and guts. At the table end opposite Junkrat, a guy who looks like the leader is sitting. He has a black bandana tied around his head, and his long beard is braided on his chest. He looks like an old-school biker, and when he laughs, Mako spots several gold teeth. He’s talking about something, and everyone else at the table are listening intensely, laughing and nodded simultaneously from time to time. At one point a smaller version of the leader (probably Junkrat’s cellmate) comes up behind the leader guy and whispers something in his ear, pointing at Junkrat at the end of the table. Junkrat immediately sits up straighter, then pushes to his feet (foot) as the leader waves him over. What happens then makes Mako’s insides twist into a tight knot and his fingers fist so hard his knuckles turn white; the man makes Junkrat turn around while the man looks at him like a piece of cattle. Then he reaches out to feel Junkrat’s arms and thighs, and Mako is halfway out of his chair when Junkrat catches his eye and urgently gestures at him to stay put. All the men at the table turn their heads to look at Mako, and Mako stares right back—he has taken on bigger guys in bigger groups before. The leader pokes Junkrat in the back and mutters something, and Junkrat instantly goes into a very animated tale, most likely telling them who Mako is and how they know each other. The leader nods and glances over at Mako again while scratching through his beard. Mako huffs and looks away; he already know what’s going to happen—he has met types like these guys before—and sure enough, Junkrat comes over a few minutes later.

            “Say, Hogs,” he begins, and his tone is hesitant the way it always is when he’s about to ask Mako to do something he already knows Mako doesn’t want to do.

            “No,” Mako simply says.

            “Oh, bloody hell, Hoggy, come on!” Junkrat whines and slides into the empty seat next to Mako to all but curl himself around Mako’s large upper arm, “they just want to meet ya, and it might our ticket to the sweet life!”

            “Why are you suddenly obsessed with these guys?” Mako asks him, trying to ignore how warm Junkrat feels even through their jumpsuits. “I thought you were happy with just a bed and a roof over your head.”

            “Yeah, but why settle, mate, right?” Junkrat argues. “These blokes can get us the dinky-di, and they can probably also get us plenty of work once we get out, too.”

            “Since when do you run errands for others?”

            “It’s not errands!” Junkrat’s face flushes bright pink. “But, I dunno, it might be nice with a little change, y’know? Come on, Hog, whaddaya say?”

            “No.”

            Junkrat huffs and disentangles himself from Mako’s arm to shove at Mako’s shoulder instead. Mako doesn’t even move an inch.

            “Know what I think, mate?” Junkrat sneers at him. “I think yer jealous.”

            “Jealous?” Mako snorts. “Why would I be jealous?”

            “It’s obvious, innit?” Mako doesn’t like the way Junkrat is smirking at him. “Yer just worried I’ll get meself another bodyguard, ain’t ya? These guys are just as tough as you, big guy, and once I have ‘em ‘round me little finger, I could probably convince ‘em to go 40/60 instead of 50/50.”

            Mako knows—fuck, Mako fucking knows Junkrat is just trying to play him like a fiddle, trying to egg him on, and it doesn’t matter at all how much Mako knows this, because it’s working, and Mako is on his feet in a second.

            “Fine, let’s meet your precious gang,” he grunts and stalks over to the table with a giggling Junkrat in his wake. It’s with immense satisfaction that Mako notices all the men (except the leader) cower just a little as he comes up to the table, shoulders squared to look as intimidating as possible. The leader, Bill as Mako learns a moment later, just looks up at him, then gestures for Mako to take a seat at the table (three guys instantly get out of their seats to make room). Mako declines; he prefers to stand, thanks—this is a lie, but he’s not about to start following orders for this guy. Bill seems impressed and continues to ask Mako what it would take to get him to join their little family, as Bill calls it, as some much needed muscle and brute force.

            “Jamie here has told me that you can snap a man’s neck with one hand,” Bill says, and Mako definitely doesn’t like the way Bill says Junkrat’s name or that he even knows Junkrat’s real name. Junkrat doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at his hand, which is busy fiddling with the zipper in his suit—Junkrat knows that Mako isn’t pleased with him at all, and it’s the damn truth. Mako tells Bill that he would rather eat his own foot than join Bill’s gang, and if Junkrat wants to join, he’s free to do so, but Mako won’t follow him into this; Junkrat is on his own now. Or rather that’s what Mako wants to say, but no matter how intensely he hates himself for it, he just cannot do it. He has promised to keep Junkrat safe, and that includes sticking by him through moronic decisions like this one. Mako sighs and glares at Bill, then nods. “Fine. I’ll be your muscle.”

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was chapter 1!
> 
> Please remember to let me know what you think of it. I love getting your feedback!
> 
> If you'd like to get updated on my fic writing adventures, I'm followable on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to tell~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't have much meat on its bones, but I hope y'all like it anyway ^^

*

 

If it’s possible to win a prize for being patient, Mako would have won dozens by now. It’s been two months since he and Junkrat joined the prison gang with the moronic name the White Skulls, and Mako feels like he’s been doing nothing slowly counting to 10 the entire time. It’s not that the work Bill wants him to do is especially demanding—the opposite, actually—but having to stand around all day and listen to Bill and his underlings blabber on about stupid and trivial shit is extremely taxing on his nerves.

And then there’s the fact that Mako doesn’t at all like the way Bill is looking at Junkrat; it’s near predatory, and it’s making Mako want to raise his bristles if he had any. It’s also making him want to introduce Bill’s smug face to his fist. Junkrat is more or less a genius, he’s autodidact in several fields, and he can plan and execute complicated schemes in a matter of hours—no, Mako doesn’t doubt Junkrat’s skills as a criminal mastermind—but when it comes to social skills, and especially everything that has to do with sex and romance? Junkrat is like a blue-eyed kid. It’s not that Junkrat doesn’t have a sex drive, because he does—Mako has accidentally caught him red-handed a couple of times—but it’s like his understanding doesn’t apply to others than himself. It’s like he doesn’t even realize that people might have ulterior motives when they approach him. Mako has experienced firsthand how whores back in Junkertown spent the entire night cozying up to Junkrat, so obviously flirting with him that you’d have to be blind, deaf, and brain dead to miss it. Junkrat is neither of those things, but he had still been completely and utterly oblivious, and just basked in the attention. Mako had felt so bad for the whores that he had slipped them some money when they, after realizing they were getting nowhere, had shuffled off. Mako had often thought about asking Junkrat if he just wasn’t interested or if maybe there was something else going on, but it had never really felt like something he could ask about. Mako hasn’t even been thinking about this for a while, but Bill’s interest in Junkrat has made Mako consider whether or not he should pull Junkrat aside and warn him. But—Mako huffs at himself—that would mean that he would have to endure Junkrat smug grin and pestering questions about why Mako even cares. And Mako doesn’t! He is strictly concerned because Junkrat has promised him an equal share of his treasure, and if Junkrat is fucked to death by some biker shithead, Mako won’t get his payment. That’s it. That’s all there is to it. Definitely.

Mako resists the roll his eyes while one of the biggest ass kissers in the gang animatedly tells a story of how he was once in a shootout with three cops, obviously trying to impress Bill who looks bored. They’re outside in the courtyard—something they do often, and the gang members spend most of their time glaring and scowling anyone who dares look in their direction—and the sun is slowly roasting them from above. The ill-fitting jumpsuit is boiling hot, so Mako has taken the top half off and tied the sleeves around his hips. He’s not too humble to admit to himself how much he enjoys the looks he gets from the other inmates, and even the guards, when they see the size of his biceps, clearly visible when he’s only wearing a tank top.

“…and then I kicked his ass!” the brown-noser explains to the disinterested audience. “Not to brag or nothing, but it took three of his cop buddies to hold me down.”

There’s a low mumble of acknowledgement, but it’s interrupted by a loud _pffffff_ coming from Junkrat.

“Three?” he snorts, jumping to his feet (the guards have finally given him a rubber peg leg, which is too soft to do much damage as a weapon, but hard enough to hold Junkrat’s weight). “Old Hogsy and I once squared off ‘gainst—how many peelers was there, Hogs? Six?”

“Eight,” Mako grunts and crosses his arms over his broad chest as he watches Junkrat. “Four divvy vans.”

“Right, eight jacks _and_ a small army of omnics in one bloody day,” Junkrat grins smugly at the increasingly flush-faced suck-up. “Lived to tell about it, didn’t we? Didn’t get ourselves caught neither, did we? _Professionals_ like us don’t get caught over trifles.”

It’s exactly shit like this that gets Junkrat into trouble wherever he goes, and judging by the look on the bootlicker’s face, Junkrat has just made himself another enemy. It doesn’t help when Bill hums with interest and leans closer, asking Junkrat to relate all the details, either, and Mako makes a mental note to keep an extra eye on Mister Ass Kisser, just in case he tries anything. It’s yet another person Mako needs to keep an eye on, and he feels about 10 years older at the thought. If only Junkrat knew how much grief he was causing him. But that would mean that Mako would have to tell Junkrat that he is worried—that he actually _cares_ —and Mako would rather cook soup on an old jockstrap and gurgle it for an hour. Obviously, he only cares about the treasure, but it could be interpreted differently.

Mako’s thoughts are disrupted when Bill laughs at Junkrat’s stories and puts a hand on Junkrat’s head, ruffling his hair, and Junkrat has the fucking nerve to grin and turn slightly pink. Mako is fuming, and how he doesn’t murder Bill right then and there is honestly a fucking miracle. Junkrat’s eyes dart up and meet Mako’s, and Mako’s rage must have been showing on his face, because Junkrat’s immediately looks away, not grinning anymore.

 

*

 

            “Goin’ quite well, innit?” Junkrat asks Mako a couple of hours later when they’re folding sheets in the laundry room; it’s the only time of day where Junkrat and Mako aren’t surrounded by the rest of the gang. Mako has started out in the kitchen, but he had gotten Murph to pull a few strings so he could be transferred to the laundry room where Junkrat was working. Murph really wasn’t a fan of Mako joining Bill’s gang, but Mako had convinced him that it would actually be a good thing since Mako could now warn Murph if the gang was going to have a go at him.

            “Hm?” Mako looks up from the worn sheet he’s trying to iron.

            “Another couple of weeks—maybe a test or two to prove that we can be counted on—and we’ll be good as gold, mate,” Junkrat says, grinning at Mako.

            Mako shrugs and just grunts in reply; he really doesn’t care that much. He’s starting to get sick of this place, the food, the work, and especially all the people. More often than not, Mako has found himself daydreaming away to the time where it was just him and Junkrat on the road. Mako sighs deeply, missing his bike, which has been sitting safely in an abandoned warehouse ever since they got locked up.

            “Whoa, whoa! Don’t be so bloody excited, mate, it’s too much!”

            Mako looks up to eye Junkrat; he had no idea that Junkrat knew sarcasm, but judging by the look on Junkrat’s face, it was definitely intentional.

            “What?” Mako grunts, still annoyed from earlier and just in general.

            “Y’know, I’m out ‘ere bustin’ me balls so we can live the sweet life in ‘ere,” Junkrat bites at him and tosses the half-folded sheet at him (folding sheets with one hand isn’t easy at all, but Junkrat makes it look easy). “I’d appreciate a little gratitude, mate.”

            That’s it, and Mako forgets all about the stoic, silent act he usually tries to maintain.

            “Gratitude?” he snarls, ripping the sheet off his head. “For what? I never wanted to be here in the first place. This was all your stupid idea.”

            “Stupid? What’s so stupid about wantin’ a roof over me head and a proper bed for once?” Junkrat shouts back, attracting the attention of everyone else in the laundry room, but neither Junkrat nor Mako care. “Maybe I’m sick of livin’ in that bloody bike all the time? I’ve been doin’ me best to make this a good time fer ya, but nothin’s ever good enough for the fancy Duke Roadhog, is it?”

            “Doing your best?” Mako repeats, then bursts out in a loud, fake laughter. “You’ve been doing _nothing_ but act like a bitch in heat around that fucking caveman moron Bill, and for all I know you’re already sucking his dick like a—”

            Mako doesn’t get to tell Junkrat exactly how he’s probably sucking Bill’s dick, because Junkrat has lurched himself over the table between them with surprising agility and aimed a punch right at Mako’s face. Junkrat’s fist connects with Mako’s jaw, and even as he staggers backwards, Mako is secretly glad that Junkrat isn’t wearing his metal prosthetic, because that might actually have sent him tumbling to the floor (Junkrat is a lot stronger than he looks). But even though Junkrat hits him with his left and weaker hand, the punch still smarts quite a bit.

            “Say that again, you fuckin’ cunt puddle, and I’ll break yer fuckin’ jaw!” Junkrat rages, literally trying to crawl onto Mako to try and hit his face again. He doesn’t get another hit in, and Mako manages to grab him around his skinny waist.

            “Get the fuck off me,” Mako growls and tosses the spluttering Junkrat across the room so he lands in the giant pile of dirty sheets. Mako only watches long enough to make sure that Junkrat is okay, which he is, and then turns around with the intention of walking away. He only gets to take a couple of steps before something long and hard collides with the back of his head. There’s a loud _crack_ , and for a moment Mako thinks that it’s the sound of his skull cracking open. When he whirls around and sees Junkrat standing there, face flushed and twisted in anger, with a broken broomstick in his hand, Mako puts two and two together.

            Junkrat is fast, and he’s normally faster than Mako, but not today. Mako gets a hold at the front of Junkrat’s jumpsuit, and he lifts him off his foot to slam him up against the nearest wall. Junkrat grunts when his back crashes into the wall, and he wriggles and struggles against Mako’s iron grip.

            “If you want outta this deal we have, Jamie,” Mako growls, tightening his grip on Junkrat’s collar enough to make him cough, “just say the fucking word.”

            Something changes in Junkrat’s eyes and grimace; Mako can’t tell if it’s fear or what it is, but it makes him immediately release Junkrat and take a step back. Junkrat slides down the wall to his knees, coughing and hunching over. There’s something cold and terrible exploding in Mako’s gut, and he’s about to lean down and scoop Junkrat into his arms when a voice behind them shouts, “Get your fucking hands up and step away, or we _will_ open fire!”

            It only takes one look over his shoulder for Mako to realize that they’re surrounded. There are at least 10 guards aiming their guns at them, and while Mako and Junkrat could normally take them on without any problem, they’re both unarmed, and that makes things a lot more difficult. So Mako just swallows and does as he’s told, stepping further away from Junkrat who’s still hunched over on the floor. He lifts his head slightly, and their eyes meet for a second before the guards cuff both of them and lead them away in each their direction.

 

*

 

Mako gets 48 hours in isolation, but he doesn’t care; the only thing he can think of is that look in Junkrat’s eyes. He still can’t figure out what it was or why it affected him like it did. Well, does. Because he’s still affected; his heart is racing and his large hands are trembling slightly. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is Junkrat’s face. It had been twisted up in rage, looking more feral than human, and his amber eyes had been burning when everything had changed. The anger had melted away in a second, and Junkrat had just gazed up at Mako with those stupidly large eyes. The grimace—Mako knows he has seen it before in others, but he just can’t—Mako groans and rubs his hands over his face. There’s something twisting in his chest, and it’s something Mako hasn’t felt in years and years. Feeling guilty is useless in the Outback, and Mako had honestly thought that he had gotten rid of that feeling a long time ago. But no, it’s there plain as day, and it’s making him feel almost sick.

            He hurt Junkrat. _That’s_ what he did. And he didn’t hurt him by throwing him or grabbing him. He actually managed to hurt Junkrat’s feelings. Mako realizes that now, and the guilt wells up in him even stronger. He has been Roadhog for so long, been surviving for so long, that he had completely forgotten that hurting someone’s feelings was even a thing. Rip off an arm? Break a leg? Crack a jaw? Sure, but hurting someone’s feeling? That didn’t exist in the Outback. But as much as Mako doesn’t want to admit it, these past years with Junkrat have changed him. Somehow, at some point, the giggling, skinny stick of a kid has managed to get under his skin, has managed to dig out some of the humanity Mako thought he had lost for good.

            “Shit,” Mako grunts into his hands. This probably the last thing he needed to happen to him. He could have dealt with physical damage of any kind, or any kind of damage, really. But this? Nope.

            Mako hasn’t felt anything for anyone for a long, long time, and here he is, and he’s fucked. He should have seen it coming, too, but he didn’t. Junkrat is pretty the opposite of what he used to fall for, but apparently a nuclear apocalypse will change a guy’s preferences; Mako doesn’t even remember what used to get him going back then, but he’s pretty sure it wasn’t half-bald, mentally disturbed, way-too-skinny twinks. Junkrat is all feelings and no consideration, and maybe that’s what Mako is into? He’s been living his life so _calculated_ that someone like Junkrat, Jamie, who just live life from day to day might seem intriguing. And if Mako absolutely has to be honest with himself, it’s not like he hasn’t jerked off to the thought of Junkrat before; he’s been imaging what those fast-talking lips would feel like around his dick, or what those hands—capable of total and utter destruction—would feel like squeezing his balls, but it’s only now he’s able to admit to himself what that actually means.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W00t, that's it for now!
> 
> Leave me a comment on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/) ^^


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako struggles with jealousy and tries to apologize to Junkrat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup! It's the last chapter of this here little AU. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> And yes, Mako is a big fucking baby! x)

*

 

The 48 hours feel like forever, but when Mako is finally released from solitary, the first thing he does is going looking for Junkrat. He’s supposed to be folding laundry, but Mako doesn’t give a shit.

            He finds Junkrat in courtyard, as always telling tall tales to anyone who wants to listen, and Mako recognizes their looks at him; they all want to devour him. Junkrat isn’t your typical angel-faced twink, but there’s something about him, and Mako feels it as strongly as any of the guys in the prison.

            “Oi, what—?” Junkrat begins when Mako grabs his upper arm and drags him off. The group of listeners all jump to their feet, but they’re clever enough not to attack Mako, since it wouldn’t end very well for them.

            “Lemme go, ya great twat!” Junkrat spits and struggles the best he can, but Mako isn’t letting him go until he has found a more private corner of the yard.

            “Just shut up for a second,” Mako grunts as he finally lets go of Junkrat, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone’s close enough to listen; he doesn’t like displaying weakness to anyone but Junkrat. “I want to talk about what happened the other day.”

            “Talk? I think ya made yer point pretty bloody clear,” Junkrat huffs, scowling at Mako. “And you know what? I think yer right! If yer hatin’ this arrangement that much, let’s end it right now.”

            “Listen, Jamie, I—what?” It takes a while before Junkrat’s words sink in, but when they do Mako is paralyzed.

            “Ya heard me,” Junkrat growls and jerks a thumb at his chest. “I can get by without yer help. You’ll see. I ain’t the same little kid that hired you back then. I can hold me own.”

            For a moment, all Mako can do is stare at Junkrat while the gravity of Junkrat’s words hits him. He had wanted to apologize to Junkrat, maybe even tell him—well, maybe not actually _tell_ —but none of that matters anymore, because Junkrat has just said that he doesn’t need Mako anymore. Mako had always imagined that it would be he who left, that he would someday get so sick of Junkrat antics that he would just leave for good and never look back again. He’s even been close to do it a couple of times, but he has never had the balls to do it, and now he’s the one being left.

            Mako’s mouth goes dry, and he has never missed his mask more than he does right now, because the last thing he wants is for the heartbreak to show on his face. He swallows it down and manages to keep it off his face. Junkrat is staring defiantly at him as if daring him to argue. Deep down, Mako knows he should argue. He knows that Junkrat is just waiting for him to argue. But Mako isn’t about to do what Junkrat wants him to; in fact, fuck this whole thing! If Junkrat is so eager to prove himself, he’s free to do so! Mako isn’t going to stop him, and a bubbling rage swells in his chest. His face twists as he straightens and huffs, “Fine!” before turning on his heel and stalking away without looking back.

 

*

 

There’s plenty of resolve in Mako’s step, and everyone he meets on his way inside visibly cower and scramble to get out of his way. It’s not until he’s a way paces away from his cell that he can feel the resolve drain out of him, and he all but collapses onto his bed with a grunt and a thud that makes the books on his shelf jump.

            “Tough life, big fella?” Murph asks, looking up from the skin magazine he’s been looking through.

            Mako simply grunts in reply, face buried in his pillow. It feels like his entire world has just been turned on its head, and it’s dizzying to think about what’s going to happen now; either he will stay his term in prison (not likely!) or he will bust out and go—where? Back to Australia? That would probably be a terrible idea, but what else would he do? Maybe he could find a gig as muscle for a gang somewhere? Mako suddenly feels very small and the world feels very big and lonely. He has been by Junkrat’s side for so long now that he has forgotten what it’s like to be alone, and although he doesn’t want to admit it to anyone, least of all himself, the thought of going out and about without Junkrat makes him feel uneasy, unsafe, and anxious. Just another reason to be furious with Junkrat for acting like a child.

            “What’s got ya down, lad?” Murph asks. “Need someone pucked? It’ll be me pleasure.”

            Mako sighs and sits up, rubbing over his face.

            “My partner and I,” he begins and laughs at bit at himself for being so pathetic about the whole thing. “Well, we’re not partners anymore.”

            “Oh.” Murph puts down his magazine. “Why is that?”

            Mako shrugs. “He wants to fend for himself. He was just a kid when he hired me as his bodyguard—it’s amazing he even lasted that long. I mean, he’s still just a kid, but he wants to go his own way now, and who am I to stop him? Who cares if he gets himself ripped in half? It’s his life, and if he wants to be his own man, he can _be_ his own fucking man.”

            “Sounds like yer not happy ‘bout it,” Murphy remarks carefully, and it’s not until then that Mako realizes that he’s been shouting.

            “Well, fuck him,” Mako grunts and stares down at his feet. “He’s only been slowing me down anyway. Better off without him.”

            Murph is quiet for a while, but then he lets out a bark of a laugh that makes Mako look up at him.

            “What’s so fucking funny?”

            “Listen, lad,” Murph snorts and wipes a tear from his eye, “sounds to me like yer about to let someone very important to ya go, because yer bein’ a stubborn cunt.”

            Mako opens his mouth in outrage to protest.

            “Me?” he splutters. “ _He’s_ the one who’s being stubborn! I was coming over there to apologize, and _he_ starts talking about how we should split!”

            “From what I’ve heard, you were the one who introduced the idea in the first place.”

            “Well!” Mako seethes, but he can’t really think of anything to say to that. It’s true that he was the one who offered Junkrat a way out, and Junkrat just picked up on it.

            “Sounds to me like he was testin’ ya,” Murph says with a shrug and leans back against the wall, smirking at Mako.

            “Testing me?”

            “Happens all the time,” Murph explains. “Yer bird will say she doesn’t want anythin’ for her birthday, but then’s bullin’ if yer stupid enough to believe her.”

            “Jamie’s not a bird,” Mako grunts.

            “Nah, but he’s a kid, inne?” Murph snorts. “He’s young and all that shite. I’ll bet me right hand he was hopin’ you’d argue.”

            Mako sighs, because he knows this is true.

            “And what ya gotta ask yerself,” Murph goes on, “is if it’s worth losin’ yer partner just because yer bein’ a stubborn, ol' bastard.”

            It’s not. It’s not at all, and Mako knows this. But…

            “It’s too late,” Mako sighs. “I already agreed to it, and he’s probably already gotten himself a new—”

            “Arh, who gives a bleedin’ fuck?” Murph huffs and grins. “Go back and get 'im! Puck whoever he’s with in the gob and reclaim yer friend! And if ya could do me the favor of breakin’ Bill’s back, too, that’d be grand.” Murph flashes his several gold teeth at Mako in a wide grin.

            Mako is already on his feet. “It’ll be my pleasure,” he says, and he’s just about to leave when Murph stops him.

            “Oi, hold on, big fella! Don’t want to go chargin’ in without a plan.”

            “Hm, I guess,” Mako grunts, then sits back down on his bed again. Something occurs to him a moment later, and he looks up at Murph. “You realize I’m in love with him, right?”

            “I’m old, not bloody stupid,” Murph grins.

 

*

 

It takes Mako almost a week to come up a good plan—Junkrat is usually the one who thinks up the plans—and find the right time. It’s just in time, too; it seems that without Mako’s presence in the group, Bill’s advances towards Junkrat have been more insisting and more frequent, and from Mako has learned from asking around and threatening a couple of Bill’s thugs, Junkrat has been resisting, but it’s only a matter of time before Bill won’t buy any more of Junkrat’s excuses anymore. Mako has noticed that Junkrat has been sporting some bruises that don’t look self-inflicted, and he has been spending every last shred of self-control he possesses on not just walking right up to Bill and rip his spine out via his asshole. It’s very tempting, though, but it would be a big mistake; the months he had spent as Bill’s muscle has taught him that Bill was a lot more dangerous than you might expect. Most of the time he came off as an eccentric biker grandpa, but Mako had witness firsthand who Bill was also the eccentric biker grandpa who wouldn’t hesitate at chopping fingers off and use them to deep throat the former owners until they choked. Another important thing Mako had learned was that Bill’s army consisted of more than just the group of thugs that always seems to surround him; it counts a couple of guards, and a whole lot of footmen inmates, too. If Mako simply charged at Bill out in the open, he would quickly find himself out-muscled and in deep shit. And there’s no way he’ll get close to Junkrat until Bill is out of the way. Junkrat seems to be surrounded by Bill or his pals 24/7, and Mako needs to talk to Junkrat properly and uninterrupted. So the only way to go about this is to get rid of Bill, which Mako probably would have done anyway since he has a strong suspicion that it’s Bill who’s putting those bruises on Junkrat.

            Mako's opportunity comes an early Tuesday morning. Mako has enlisted Murph to help him keep an eye on Bill, and Murph comes back from breakfast with the news that his sources tell him that Bill has apparently ordered the laundry empty except for Junkrat. The only other people there are two of Bill’s thugs and a dirty guard. Seems like Bill doesn’t want to be disturbed, and Mako feels slightly sick just at the thought. He gets to feet and grabs the homemade knife Murph has made for him.

            “I’ll be bloody disappointed if it goes arseways and you come back in a bag, lad,” Murph tells him as a way of good luck.

            Mako grunts in reply and leaves the cell, heading down to the laundry room. He hasn’t had a proper fight in months, every cell in his body is ready and vibrating in anticipation, and he walks so fast that it only takes a couple of minutes to get to the entrance to the laundry room. Just as Murph had told him, there are three people not-so-subtly guarding the large double doors. They are relaxed and talking, but when they set eyes on Mako, they all spring to attention.

            “What are you doing down here, Rutledge,” the guard asks him, looking like he’s trying to puff up his chest to appear bigger.

            “I’m here for my shift,” Mako deadpans, clutching the knife in his pocket. “Something wrong, boss?”

            “Uh, no,” the guard says, eyes shifty and twitchy. “The, uh, the laundry room is closed right now for, uh—”

            “Closed?” Mako pokes. “But the machines are running, I can hear that. Are you sure you’re not mistaken, boss?”

            “Listen, fatass,” one of Bill’s thugs snarls and steps forward, “why don’t you just back the fuck off, huh?”

            It’s almost adorable how the little guy tries to threaten Mako, and as a reward, Mako only knocks him out after having broken both his legs (someone needs to be left alive to tell others about this anyway). The other two are not that lucky, and Mako uses the guard’s jacket to wipe his knife clean before entering the laundry room.

            It’s full of steam, and Mako only just have time dodge the attack that comes at him from behind the second the door closes. Mako spins around, knife out and ready, when he sees the face of his attacker.

            “Jamie?!”

            Junkrat looks just as surprised as Mako feels.

            “Roadie? What the hell are ya doin’ here?”

            “I’m here to save you from Bill!”

            “Oh, you mean old mister limp knob over there?” Junkrat jerks a thumb in the direction of the corner. In it, Bill is lying unconscious from what looks like a pretty nasty headwound.

            “You—how did you—?”

            “I told you, mate!” Junkrat huffs. “I can fend for meself. I thought ya was one of the thugs who’d heard us tussle.”

            “So you don’t need saving?”

            “Nah, she'll be right,” Junkrat shrugs. “But—” he scratches the back on his neck and looks down at the floor, “it was bloody nice of ya to come anyway.”

            “Jamie, listen,” Mako says, dropping the knife on the floor and walking up to Junkrat, abandoning all pretense, “I’m really sorry, okay? I’m sorry about the fight and the shit I said. I didn’t mean it.”

            “Ya didn’t?” Junkrat asks softly, gazing up at him with those ridiculous amber eyes.

            “No, I—” Mako sighs and chews his lip for a moment before muttering, “I was jealous.”

            “Jealous? Of me?”

            “I was just worried that maybe you’d find someone else,” Mako says, and he doesn’t have the balls to meet Junkrat’s gaze this time. “I don’t want to you find someone else. I want you to stay with me.”

            Junkrat doesn’t say anything, and when Mako finally looks up to meet his gaze, he finds Junkrat just staring at him with his mouth slightly open. He looks utterly shocked, and Mako can’t help getting a little worried.

            “Jamie? You okay?”

            “What? Oh, right, yeah,” Junkrat says and swallows. “It’s just—that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, mate.”

            Mako doesn’t wait for Junkrat to say anything else; he wraps his massive arms around Junkrat’s skinny frame and lifts him off the floor in a tight hug. Junkrat physically curls around him and returns the hug, and it’s several minutes where they just hug each other in silence while the steam is slowly making their hair and clothes damp.

            Junkrat eventually pull back a bit so he can lean his forehead against Mako’s, and his eyes flutter closed as he leans even closer. It’s the millisecond before their lips meet when Junkrat suddenly jerks his head back.

            “Oi, what ya said ‘bout want me to stay with ya,” he asks. “Ya meant that in the gay way, right?”

            “Oh yes.”

            “Brilliant. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to tell—”

            “Jamie. Shut up.”

            “Right’o, mate.”

            Junkrat’s are softer than they look, but his kisses are just as chaotic as the rest of him. Junkrat only manages a few seconds of soft, deep kissing before he turns greedier. His fingers dance all over Mako’s shoulder, the back of his neck, and into his hair while he moans, pants and gasps into Mako’s mouth.

            “M’sorry ‘bout everythin’ I said too,” Junkrat breathes, squirming in Mako’s arms and bucking his hips to rub up against Mako’s belly. “Been wantin’ this for so long. Didn’t think ya’d be interested.”

            Mako doesn’t really have the brain capacity to respond. He has a hard enough time accepting that this is actually happening, that Junkrat is actually in his arms, rutting up against him and kissing him. It feels like his entire body is on fire, and his cock is already straining against the front of his jumpsuit. But it will have to wait, because Mako is going to do something that he’s wanted to do for a long time. He lets Junkrat down, but only to strip him completely naked. Junkrat squirms and giggles in confusion until Mako grabs him by the hips and lifts him up against the nearby wall, draping Junkrat’s legs over his shoulder.

            “Oh fuck, Hog,” Junkrat breathes, arching against the wall and gazing down at Mako.

            Junkrat is rock hard, and his dick is twitching up against his taut belly, only a few inches from Mako’s lips. He grins up at Junkrat for a second before wrapping his lips around the head of Junkrat’s cock and sucking the entire length into his mouth with a deep, rumbling hum.

            Even before he had admitted to himself that he wanted this, Mako had fantasized about it and just excused it with a lack of physical stimulation. It was a big lie. Mako hadn’t been lacking physical stimulation; he had been lacking physical stimulation from Junkrat.

            Mako knows he’s just making this up for himself, but it feels like Junkrat’s cock was made with his mouth in mind; the two just fit perfectly together, and Mako rubs his tongue along the thick vein on the underside before slowly pulling back to the sound of Junkrat panting and hissing above him. Mako looks up at Junkrat once he’s pulled back entirely; Junkrat’s wet cock is twitching and throbbing, and Mako can’t help but blow a soft, cool stream over air over it.

            “Shit,” Junkrat gasps, twisting his fingers in Mako’s hair. “Yer a bloody tease, mate.”

            Mako just smirks and uses a hand to pull Junkrat’s foreskin all the way back before sucking the length into his mouth again. Junkrat whines softly and almost instantly starts babbling something Mako can’t quite make out, but he catches the words “so amazing” and “my sweet Hoggy”.

            Mako keeps sucking Junkrat until his jaws start to ache and Junkrat starts going rigid. Junkrat bucks his hips, tightening his grip in Mako’s hair to the point of pain, and Mako can feel his dick swell against his tongue.

            “Love it—fuck, so good, my Hoggy, I love my Hoggy,” Junkrat splutters out, and only a few seconds later, he jerks hard in Mako’s arm, shoving his cock as far down Mako’s throat as it will go and coming with a surprisingly soft gasp.

            Mako squeezes Junkrat’s ass hard, rubbing it until Junkrat begins to relax and his breathing returns to normal. Then he slowly pulls back, licking his lips and letting Junkrat down on his wobbly foot.

            “Well, fuck me,” Junkrat grins weakly up at him and leans his forehead against Mako’s belly. “That was bloody bonzer! Want me to return the favor, mate?”

            “Yeah, but what’re we gonna do about the asswipe in the corner?” Mako asks, stroking a hand down Junkrat’s naked, sweaty back.

            “Just leave ‘im,” Junkrat grunts with a shrug. “Let ‘im try anythin’—”

            Junkrat doesn’t get to say anything else, because there’s a wheezing laugh behind them, and they both turn to see Bill standing there. He’s bleeding from the wound in his forehead, and he’s holding the knife that Mako dropped earlier.

            “So this is what’s been going on,” Bill rasps, spitting out a glob of blood on the concrete floor. “That’s why you’ve been playing coy, huh?”

            “Oh, please!” Junkrat snorts, and there’s absolutely not a shred left of the shy play he had been putting up. “Doubt anyone would willingly root an old cunt like you!”

            “You’re going to regret this, you little shit!” Bill rages and charges at the naked Junkrat, knife in hand.

            It ends exactly as was to be expected; Junkrat is way too fast for Bill, and Mako snaps his spine with very little effort. He is pleased to see that the technique he’s been practicing for the last year still works, and instead of killing Bill, it just leaves him paralyzed from the chest down.

            “He ain’t gonna be using that dick any time soon,” Mako grunts as he and Junkrat (now clothed) leave the laundry room and carefully step over the bodies outside the door. “Or ever.”

            “That’s nasty,” Junkrat snickers, then stops and sighs.

            “What is it?”

            “Ya know what, mate?” Junkrat says, looking up at Mako with a wide grin. “Reckon I’m over this whole three meals a day and roof over me head.”

            “Hm, I feel you,” Mako says with a solemn nod. “How about we blow this joint?”

            “Hoggy, my friend,” Junkrat’s grin turns wicked, “ya read me mind!”

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end of the prison AU! I hope y'all liked it :)  
> I had a blast writing it, and I'm kind of sad to see it end, but it's time for more Junkeel ^^;;
> 
> Also, before busting out of the prison, the junkers offered to bust Murph out as well, but he'd been living in the prison for so long that he wasn't interested in the outside world.
> 
> If you want to come yell at me on social media about my precious junkers, you can do so on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
